Marked: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Thrice Cursed Mage Book 2) (10 page)

“So you’re not going to kill me right now. Good to know. I have things to do.” I kept my face neutral even though I felt like I should shoot him just on principle. “Should I check the bushes outside when I leave to make sure you aren’t following me?”

“Make jokes. It’s cool. You’re probably still getting used to your powers.” He gestured at me with his cigarette. “It won’t work on me. Your hellfire will slide off me like water off a duck’s back, but it’s still a neat trick, I’ll give you that.” He turned toward the bar and rang his bell. “I want a drink, you want a drink? Something light with bubbles to settle the stomach.” As he finished talking to me, a blonde woman straight out of the centerfold of Playboy wearing a tight-fitting navy blue blazer materialized on the other side of the bar.

“You rang?” she asked in a voice that washed over me like honey and made it so all I could do was stare at her. Need swelled up inside me as Danton gestured toward me with one hand. I had to have her. Had to make her mine. I started to get to my feet.

“Yeah, we need two Coors Lights.” He smirked at me. “She’s a siren. Don’t get too close, or she’ll eat you.”

“I
will
eat you,” she agreed before turning away. The moment she did, the spell seemed to shatter, and I felt like myself again. What was that, and how had it happened? A pang of fear settled in my stomach. I was way out of my league here, and not in a good way. No, in a very bad, about to get me killed horribly before I could rescue my sister and nephew sort of way.

“You did that just so I’d see there were scarier things than me, didn’t you?” I asked, trying to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest. The girl hadn’t even paid attention to me. A shudder went through me. What if she had?

“I did.” He stuck the cigarette back in his mouth. “You’ve officially entered a world the likes of which you can’t begin to fathom, and let me tell you right now, you’re like the least scary guy in here. Hell, I came to this city to take out one of you who was older than this country, and he got offed by some no-name loser. How strong do you think that arm really makes you against something like that?” He gestured toward the bar where the bartender was walking toward us carrying two frothy glasses of amber liquid.

Watching her set my beer in front of me made me forget how to even breathe. As she left, I think the only thing that snapped me out of staring off in her direction was Danton snapping his fingers at me. I turned toward him, and he gestured toward my beer.

“Drink up, chump,” he said and tilted his back, swallowing half of it in a gulp.

I glanced from him to my beer and back again. “I’m good. I think I should keep a clear head.”

“Well, if you aren’t going to drink it, pass it over here.” Danton downed the rest of his own beer and swiped mine. As he put it to his lips, he grinned at me. “Let me give you one last bit of advice, Mac.”

I let out a long sigh. “Alright,” I said as he swallowed half of my beer. Man, the guy was like a beer camel. Then again, he was drinking Coors Light. That stuff was designed for you to be able to kill a six pack an hour.

“I’m not sure why you did what you did, and I don’t care. When we meet later, I won’t listen. It doesn’t matter though for this next bit. Listen when I say this. If you have any family, you need to walk away from them right now because there are things way worse than me. Those things will chew up and spit out everyone you love. You owe it to them to leave now, while you can.” He looked away from me then. “Trust me. Walking away is the best thing you can do for them.”

“Is that what you did?” I asked, and as he opened his mouth to reply, a scream of pain and anguish exploded across my brain. Ricky’s scream. She was in trouble.

Chapter 11

“Danton,” I said, leaping to my feet as my hand went into my trench coat. “How come the siren didn’t bother you?”

“I’ve got a few charms to ward off her, and others, effects,” he said, watching me with amusement. “Why?”

“Because I’m probably going to shoot her in the face, and I need to not be all loopy when I do it.” I pulled one of the Glock .45s free, but kept it pointed at the ground.

“Why the heck would you do that?” Danton asked, getting to his feet so quickly he knocked down his barstool.

“Because,” I said, pointing the Glock at the center of his chest. “I came in here with a friend so we could get information on the whereabouts of her missing brother who was abducted by a guy named Pierce Ambrose. I’m willing to bet that name means something to you since you’re all worldly.” I held out my empty right hand palm up. “Give me your charm because if you don’t, I will shoot you and take it.”

“That’s suicide, mate,” Danton said, reaching into his pocket. I had no idea what he was going for, but I was willing to bet it wouldn’t be something to help me. No, I needed him on my side. “Jinn will never tell you where Pierce is located, and you can’t start shooting in here and expect to live. Both your plans are stupid and desperate.”

“Then you’ll have died in vain. Right now, I can hear her screaming in my head.” I tapped my temple with my right index finger. “If you try anything, I’ll straight up paint the walls with you before I go on a murderous rampage through this place. I’m evil, remember?”

He stopped moving and a weird look came across his features. “Is your friend a werewolf?”

“Yes. Her name is Ricky. Why?” I asked, trying to figure out what was going on because I could see wheels spinning behind his eyes.

“The only way you’d be able to psychically hear a werewolf was if she imprinted on you.” He let out a long exasperated sigh. “And I liked this place…”

“What are you talking about? Just give me the charm.” I said, slightly confused.

He gritted his teeth together. “Mac, I’m going to help you save your girlfriend.” He slowly pulled his hand out and offered me a tiny silver fishhook. “Never come into a supernatural bar without this. Most places like to hire sirens to serve drinks because it makes poor schleps buy more and more. I
always
keep a few on me in case I get pickpocketed while I’m here, so you can have this one.” He slid it across the bar, and without taking my eyes off of him, I picked it up.

“Thanks,” I said and pocketed the fishhook. “You may want to stand back. This is going to get messy.”

“Will do,” he said, walking slowly toward me, hands up like he meant no harm. “But if you live through the next few minutes, do me one favor.”

“Hmm?” I asked as he moved slowly around me and made his way toward the curtain. He kept his hands up the whole time, giving me no reason to shoot him. Still, no one seemed to care that a Cursed like me had pulled a gun on a Demon Hunter like him. Had they expected this to play out this way? Was this why that hostess had seated us together? Realization settled over me. The hostess had been trying to get me killed. Bitch.

“Tell your werewolf friend how you really feel. Whether you like her or not, just let her know, okay?” He pushed through the curtain and disappeared. Well, that was a little weird.

I pushed it from my thoughts because I didn’t have time to dwell on what he meant. No, I had to get to Ricky, had to save her from whatever was torturing her. I rang the bell. Like before, the siren appeared, and true to Danton’s word, I felt nothing. Excellent.

“Hello.” I pointed the gun at her and smiled.

Her eyes flicked to the gun. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“That all depends on what you say next. Where is my friend Ricky?” I held up my right hand and willed my tattoos to flare. They did. See, magic was easy.

“I don’t know. I can find out though. Let me speak to the hostess.” She started to turn away, clearly unimpressed with my glowing tattoos.

“Yeah, I don’t trust you. There’s no chance you won’t come back with an army to march me out of here.” I gestured at her with my gun. “Or worse.”

“No, I won’t. Look, just wait here a second, and I’m sure—” I didn’t catch the rest of her words because another scream ripped apart my thoughts. Rage filled me, and before I knew what was happening, I’d leapt over the bar and jammed the gun up under her chin. The other chefs turned toward me as everything inside me went cold, dark, and empty.

“Where is Ricky? I want her out here now,” I demanded, spinning so I could keep her between me and the other chefs, two identical looking men with skin the color of polished ivory and long flowing golden hair. “And if either of you two Aquaman-looking jackasses take even one step closer, we’ll find out how well you do against bullets.”

“Let me go,” the blonde siren said, and her voice hit me like a sledgehammer to the face. The fishhook in my pants pocket got so hot against my leg, it felt like it was a live coal. The taste of blood filled my mouth. I got the vague impression of something vast and evil looming over me, trying to find a chink in my armor to exploit.

“Stop,” I shouted, allowing my anger to floor into my words. Other people were starting to look over at us, and as I surveyed the area, I realized the other patrons were the least of my problems. Every single one of the kimono-clad, werewolf waitresses had a katana strapped to her back. Judging by the way their hands were inching toward the hilts of the blades, I’d been right. They probably knew how to use them. Damn. Sometimes I hated being right.

“Your charm is strong, but it won’t last forever,” the siren replied, and the sound hit me like a trumpet blast in the ears. I staggered backward, and as I did so, things started to writhe beneath the girl’s flesh. I caught a faint glimpse of mottled black skin and silver scales, of dagger-like teeth and sunken black eyes. Well, screw this.

I fired the Glock at her face which had pretty much the desired effect. First, the things under the blonde’s skin stopped moving. Second, she slumped headless to the ground in front of me. Third, the horrible pressure trying to invade my brain vanished. It also made the entire room stop in a completely different way than before.

Silence hung around us in the fading echo of the shot. Then all Hell broke loose. Screaming exploded from within the rest of the dining room as people bolted to their feet and sprinted toward the exit in a mad dash that left half of them trampled. I could see one man trying to pull up his fallen date by the arm, and I intrinsically felt bad for both of them. They hadn’t come here for this.

The twin chefs started to change in the exact same way I’d seen with the girl while rushing at me like I hadn’t just blown away the chick siren so why didn’t fear me shooting them? Werewolves could heal bullets, maybe these guys could too? Then again, I was using silver, and it’d seemed pretty effective on the girl? Maybe only the females were vulnerable to silver? Well, there was one way to find out.

I put two shots in each of their chests. The explosion of gore that burst from their backs as they stumbled and fell to the ground was surprising, even given the caliber of the bullets. Silver light flared from within their bodies as realization and horror filled their eyes. So, it wasn’t a female only weakness after all. They were just dumb. Good to know.

“Silver,” one croaked. “He’s using silver…”

The other didn’t bother speaking as he clutched at his ruined chest, the light already fading from his eyes.

“If someone doesn’t tell me where to find Ricky right now, this place is going to have a real employee shortage!” I cried, pointing the Glock at the hostess who had sat me next to Danton. Her face was fixed in a scowl, but after what I’d done to the three chefs on the ground, I was betting they didn’t want to charge at me and get shot full of silver.

“You’ll never get out of here alive,” the hostess said, the hand on the hilt of her katana already starting to pull the blade free. “Then again, you never were supposed to get out of here alive. You’ve been marked for death by the Alpha of this state, and you have the audacity to show up here? Of all places? Do you have some kind of death wish?”

“You know, I’ve heard that before,” I replied before putting a bullet in her face and painting the wall behind her with blood and thicker bits. “But here I am. So, am I going to keep shooting people, or is someone going to just go get Ricky?”

Another scream exploded in my brain, loud and violent enough to make me wobble. I stumbled forward and grabbed onto the back of the sushi bar for balance. As my fingers touched the icy metal, three Asian women armed with katanas came tearing toward me from all around the room like goddamned ninjas. The steel of their blades glinted in a way that made me think they were coated in silver. Now it made sense why werewolves would be using swords when they could turn into hulking rage beasts. The better to deal with other werewolves. Still, the idea of a werewolf using a samurai sword made me smile.

A katana slammed into the bar just ahead of me, shattering the glass case as I threw myself backward and put a bullet into its wielder’s chest. The impact of the shot flung her backward like a rag doll, but her two friends were already coming over the bar, surging toward me like they’d done this a million times.

I blocked a slash with my Glock and kicked out, shattering a knee that didn’t even slow the girl, let alone drop her down to the ground like I’d hoped. Without even stopping, she hopped toward me, and brought her blade down at me again. I rolled sideways, barely dodging the attack. Her sword struck the glass floor next to me in a shower of sparks.

Her companion kicked me, hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. Before I could even cover up, she did it again. Her second kick caught me in the ribs, lifting me off the ground. I slammed backward into the bottle laden shelves with a crash and crumpled to the ground in a rain of broken glass and alcohol. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand as a meat cleaver that had been lying on the sushi bar came flying through the air. The blade struck the shelf beside my head hard enough to pierce the metal and stick there.

In the time it took me to turn my head toward the girl who had flung the cleaver at me, another girl, this one clad in a purple kimono, appeared from nowhere and grabbed me by the hair. With less effort than it would take me to fire my gun, she slammed me backward against the wall. My skull struck the wall hard enough to make everything in me go sort of dim and far off. As I started to slump forward, her foot lashed out like a whip, knocking my Glock from my grip and sending it flying across the floor.